


Child of Death

by Muse_Dono



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Background Character Death, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Humor, Rebirth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28404570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muse_Dono/pseuds/Muse_Dono
Summary: When she first died she didn't know what to expect, honestly -but it certainly wasn't to be hand picked by Death Himself, and all so that He can prove a point against Fate. Reborn!OC X Fred.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Original Character(s), Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter & Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	1. 'Til Death Do You Part

I'm eerily calm. Content.

That's the first thing I become aware of.

Then I open my eyes, and I notice that I'm standing in the middle of a train station. But that isn't quite right, either. My surroundings are just burry enough -with just enough mist covering the walls- that hide the details, only allowing impressions to leak through and simultaneously making everything seem further away it probably is.

I say that because I can see people wordlessly drifting to the parked train, just as shapeless and obscured as everything else. Curiosity worms itself inside of me at the sight, along with the nagging feeling that I should be doing the same.

"Wait." A deep voice cuts into the silence, jolting me as I twirl around.

I realize, then, that I had stepped closer to the train without being aware. Forcing myself to look away from the train and the faceless people climbing aboard, I eye the man that had made himself known.

He's awfully tall, and with a dark hooded cloak that hides his appearance from sight. Despite his intimating figure, though, I can't bring myself to be afraid of the man. Not even when he walks closer, staying a respectful distance all the while.

"Yes?" I ask.

"You aren't to go there, yet," he tells me, head gesturing to the train behind me.

"I'm not?" I question doubtfully, somehow knowing that the man isn't quite speaking the truth.

"Not yet," he reiterates. "Tell me, Evelyn Walker, do you know where you are?"

 _'What an odd question,'_ I think. "I'm at a trains' station, of course. Where else would I be?"

I gain the impression that he's smiling based on the tone of his voice. "Where else, indeed. Let me ask you something else then; do you believe in the afterlife?"

I blink, mouth opening before snapping shut. That nagging feeling grows, becoming very insistent even as a new sense of _wrongness_ begins to nip at me, slowly chipping away at the calm. I furrow my brows, thinking.

The hooded figure waits patiently.

 _"Where else, indeed,"_ his words echo in my mind. I look around myself again, paying real, true attention on my burry surroundings and how unnaturally lifeless the others move. Not once do they glance towards us.

It's as if we aren't here. No, as if they simply can't see or hear us.

 _'...I'm not supposed to be here, am I?'_ "Where am I?" I finally ask the man.

"In limbo," he answers simply. He pauses for a moment, letting me digest the news.

"Oh," I respond hollowly. I stare at the train, numbness's icy fingers grabbing hold of me, creating an empty, gnawing hole in my gut at the revelation. "I died, didn't I?"

The man dips his head.

Yes, yes, it's all coming together now. My boss asking me to stay later, my poor decision to stay up reading most of the night -and morning- the time before, and the red truck ramming into my side-

I truly did die.

"What now, then?" I wonder, turning my head to face the man again. Because didn't he say 'not yet'? Does this mean he's going to send me back?

"Now you have a choice," he stalks forward, forcing me to tilt my chin up.

I'm slightly disappointed when, even as I peak from under his hood, all I see is pitch darkness.

"A choice whether to move on," he continues, gesturing to the train, "Or to accept my deal."

"...I don't think making a deal with you would be very beneficial for me. They have stories warning about that type of thing, you know," I frown.

He laughs, a surprisingly pleasant sound that sends a shiver down my spine. I can imagine the grin, the glinting eyes full of mirth that would follow His words; "I'm not the Devil. I would not be here if I were, and neither would you if you were meeting me."

"Who are you, then?"

"Death."

_'Ah.'_

He leans closer, bending down to almost my height. "The deal I'm about to propose to you isn't so unfair as what the Devil would trick you into, I promise. Would you like to hear it?"

I purse my lips. "I suppose so," I allow slowly. "It isn't like I got anything else to do, is it?"

He chuckles again, straightening to his full, impressive height. "That's the spirit."

I blink, mind reeling for a second. Did he -did _Death Himself-_ just make a _pun-?_

"I require you to settle a bet for me," He goes on, sighing. "See, I've grown tired of Fate thinking Herself inevitable. She really isn't -it's only that the humans have fooled themselves into believing it, with all the prophecies She fancies writing, and it's caused Her to get a bit...Ahead of Herself."

"...Alright, so what do you want me to do about it?" I question, deciding against going into the fact that apparently Death and Fate have their own self identities, and have spats with each other for the time being.

"I need you to ruin one of Her prophecies," Death explains, sounding utterly gleeful at the mere prospect. "It'll drive Her nuts, and worse yet She won't be have any power over you, because you won't belong to the universe to begin with! You enjoyed the so-called _Harry Potter_ series in your world, didn't you?"

"I was a big fan," I admit, now guessing where this is headed and not knowing how to feel about it. Disbelieve, excitement- "Are you sending me to the _Harry Potter_ world? Like in the fan fictions?"

"Exactly," Death answers, sounding pleased. "I will allow you to experience the wonders of magic, and all you have to do is destroy that abomination before the so-called 'Chosen One' is able to in return."

I pause. Something about how easy He makes it sound and the implications of that same sentence being awfully unfit for each other..."You want _me_ to kill Lord Voldemort, before Harry?" I clarify carefully.

"Or that Longbottom boy, yes," Death agrees.

I stare at Him.

He waits once more, ever patient.

"You want me to kill Lord Voldemort," I repeat, "So that you can prove to Fate that She isn't, in fact, invincible?"

"Yes."

I stare some more, disbelieve finally over taking me of how _serious_ He's being. Right. Well. "...And if I were to get killed? If I fail to kill him and die early?"

"You don't need to worry about that," He assures me confidently. "I can simply send you back if you do end up dead before you're able to rid the earth of him."

 _'Surely that's breaking some sort of rule? Very important ones at that?'_ Then again, I'm sure there must be _some_ kind of rule against sending a soul to another world. In the end, I can't bring myself to ask about them in fear of the possible consequences.

"...Will I be able to pick what family I'm born into?"

"No."

I bristle at His hard, unyielding tone, and open my mouth to argue when He continues:

"Sending you to the new world is not as easy as you're thinking. I am not Life, nor am I Magic. I cannot simply create an entirely new body for you. Neither will I take a soul only for you to replace it and keep the original soul's body."

Now I'm confused. "Will I be...Transmigrated, then?" I question, furrowing my brow.

He shakes His head. "I will place your soul in a stillborn. Unfortunately, the magical community being as small as it is, there are less stillbirths than even in the non-magical population, and even less that would offer you the right opportunities and position in life for the deal to have a chance of succeeding. There is only one that can do that."

"Oh, I see," I say, a little disappointed, and pushing down the raising discomfort of the surreal situation. "Who then?" I can't remember any stillbirths being mentioned in the books, but then again I suppose if it actually is an entire other universe, there must be more to it than what was written down.

There's that impression of a grin again. "Do you accept, then?"

"Yes. But who am I being reborn as?"

"Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer," is all He warns with an undertone of excitement and wicked glee, before a skeletal hand covers my face and everything goes dark.

* * *

Hello, everyone! I just wanted to thank you for checking out this story, and to inform you that I also have another HP work (100k words, thirteen chapters so far) called _Sincerely, The Stranger You Call Sister_ if you're interested. It's about another OC of mine being reborn as Tom Riddle's (older) twin sister, and is a challenge response from Writer's Obsession _Story Challenge: Brother Dearest_. A warning for the OC's crude language, though!

**If you'd like to review, but don't know what to say, please answer these questions:**

**1.** Which family do you think she'll be reborn into?

 **2.** What do you think of Death so far, and would you like to see more of him?

 **3.** Do you have a favourite part?

 **4.** Do you have a least favourite part?

 **5.** Did you see any mistakes, and if so, where?

 **6.** Do you have any questions?


	2. Rest In Peace Never

I can't be sure of what happens in the following months.

Well, I assume it's a few months, based on the snippets of conversation I'm able to grasp between constant hunger pains and fitful rest.

("Sleeping like a baby" is a completely misused saying. The smallest noise is able to wrench myself wake, as easy as it is to fall back asleep once it's quite again. It's both fleeting and the longest thing ever, with the many interruptions yet not having the energy to do much else.)

My body felt like led, mind muddled, ears filled with water and vision as bad as the nearly blind.

Then comes the sharp, aching pain in my gums, and it's the most awful thing _ever._ I cried, a lot.

It was as if my mouth was on fire, a never ending hell that could only be temporarily soothed by the cold and the chewy.

Fortunately, as never-ending as it seemed during the time, it _did_ eventually stop, and around that time I was able to stay awake longer.

By vision was still horrible -couldn't truly make out objects two feet away from my own face- but I had enough wits about me that I could recognize that adults surrounded me, filtered in and out with few constants.

I pieced together who exactly the blurry impressions and loud voices were based on the conversations, and, oh, when I _did-_

 _'I'm going to kill him,'_ I think to myself grimly.

'Not the Devil' and 'not unfair deal' my screwed behind!

I don't even care that He's Death Himself. That He's an immortal, peerless being and could quite possibly send me to Hell if there is one.

Because this -what He's done- is _not cool,_ and He's a filthy, dirty liar!

"Is the wee darlin' hungry?" A voice so sickeningly sweet fills the previous silent room, the same time dread pools in my stomach.

 _'Oh, God, she's back,'_ I despair, actually, once again, weeping at the injustice of the world.

Is this Karma? If Death, Fate and the Devil are their own beings, is Karma too? Is this the price for my past sins, or just accepting a deal with Death in general?

The lady coos, gently picking me up while cradling the back of my neck and the bottom of my bum, lifting me out of my crib. I'm completely, utterly helpless as she tucks me close to her chest and nudges a bottle nipple against my mouth.

 _'Well, at least she no longer tries to breast feed me,'_ I console myself as I regretfully suck. Yes, at least there's not that, even if I still have to endure the humiliation of having my diaper changed multiple times a day. It's a cold comfort.

After I've downed the bottle she positions me to burb me, then squeezes my crutch as to check my diaper.

"How is she?" Another lady walks into the nursery, my supposedly new Aunt.

"Just finished feeding the little tyke," the first lady answers. "Where is everyone else?"

"The Dark Lord is discussing plans with Nott, Rodolphus, and Avery in the study, while some others along with Lucius went out."

"I see."

I feel my recently filled stomach roll, some milk rapidly raising in my throat over being suddenly moved, the lady -I _refuse_ to call her Mum, no way, no how- having just stood up.

I force the milk back down as I'm re-positioned so that my head is resting in the crook of her bent elbow, her strong arm curled underneath and around my tiny body.

"I don't think it would be a good idea to bother them right now-"

"Don't be ridiculous! I am the mother of his child, it will be fine!"

 _'Oh, no,no, no, no-!'_ I started fussing, squirming in her tight hold the best I can. I stare up at her, and the blurry mess of her curly dark hair and the extremely faint details of her face, begging her not to.

Not again.

"Ssssh, be quite now, Hecate. We're going to visit your Father!" She tells me cheerfully.

_'I know! That's what I'm afraid of, you absolute mad woman! Let go! Let go, you hear me?!'_

Unfortunately she turns a deaf ear to my complaints, absentmindedly rocking me as she pays no more attention to the second lady's words of caution.

 _'I should have spat up when I had the chance,'_ I think bitterly. She wouldn't be trying to get me to 'bond' with the horrible man if I came smelling of baby vomit. (It has a special smell to it.) I know, because I once simultaneously crapped my pants and threw up my dinner the first time I realized who my new father is as he held me in his cold hands, in a horrible combination of being terrified witless, feeling sick to my stomach, and having been moved too fast.

I didn't see him again for another three weeks. _(And it was the happiest three weeks of this cursed second life.)_

The second lady stops following when we get too close to the study, and once arrived the first lady confidently knocks on double french doors twice.

"Who is it?" An icy voice demands from the other side, and I shiver, burrowing closer into the lady's embrace despite myself.

This close, I don't dare wail. I can still recall his terrifying glare as he stared down at me during my second visit. Visions and possibilities of what he could do to me haunt my sleep, and the last thing I want to find out is if he'd dare to act on them if I were to push him too far. Even if I only am a baby.

"Bella, my Lord," she answers proudly.

There's a pause. "Come in."

Bella opens the door with her free hand before waltzing in, without a lick of fear and shame, as she continues until she's at the horrible man's side.

He's tall, with sweeping dark hair, a strong jaw and probably very handsome indeed, but those _bleeding eyes, eyes the colour of crimson and blood-_ they stare into my very soul, so cold and unfeeling despite the colour, shaking me to my core. It only lasts a second, only a fleeting glance really, before he turns back to his stacks of paper, but a glance too long all the same.

The other three men - _Death Eaters-_ quickly excuse themselves, leaving just the three of us and the grand desk cluttered with maps and plans.

_'For world domination, no doubt.'_

"What brings you here, Bella?" There is no warmth in his voice, yet she beams as if he told her that she was his most precious treasure.

"Hecate just woke up from her afternoon nap, my Lord, and she and I missed you most terribly."

_'No, no I did not!'_

He sits down gracefully on his cushioned chair, considering Bella with an unreadable expression.

We both hold our breath.

"The blood traitors have missed you on the battlefield," he finally comments neutrally.

I can feel Bella's barely restrained, bubbling excitement in the way she squeezes me tighter. "Of course, my Lord. It would be an honour to serve you on the battlefield once again," she says breathlessly.

The Dark Lord - _Voldemort himself_ \- smiles cruelly, in dark satisfaction, and holds out his arms.

Bella is all too happy to give me up.

_'Definitely killing Death next time I see him!'_

* * *

I hated Narcissa. I hated her _so much._

 **"Don't eat her,"** Voldemort tells Nagini, not even bothering to look up from his desk.

I eye the large snake warily, so close that I could touch if I only stretch out my foot or hand. I don't dare move from even an inch from the tiny corner I've been blocked in.

 **"Of course, master. I will not harm master's hatchling,"** she hisses, coiling herself closer around me.

I flinch, bringing my short stubby legs closer to my person. _'How did I end up here again?'_

Right _._ The insane Bellatrix, and the spineless Narcissa that's who. Bella officially off 'maternity leave,' and Narcissa playing 'sick;' there isn't anyone else to watch me while raids and attacks are being run.

Well, a few other Death Eater wives offered to babysit me of course, but Bella's trust issues aside, she's dead-set of forcing Voldemort and I to bond. Which is why Narcissa is 'sick.'

With nothing better to do, I once again take note of the study. Bookshelves towering over on two of the four walls, a large arching window overlooks the Lestrange Manor's back garden. The dark wooden desk is more or less in the middle of the room, closest to the window, and with the back facing it. An ancient-woven -though still in pristine condition- covers most of the wooden floor, and other such kick-knacks are scattered about the room.

I twitch, feeling a pair of eyes burning holes on my person. They've been doing that for a while now. Despite knowing who they belong to, I find myself locking gazes with Voldemort.

He's frowning, right hand supporting his cheek as he stares at me from across the room. "You are very quiet for a child," he muses.

My mouth is awfully dry, and I can feel my wildly beating heart like a desperate, trapped humming bird. I don't know how I should react to that. If it's a good thing or not.

"I thought children were supposed to be loud," he continues to himself, narrowing his eyes in thought. "Certainly, the brats in Wool's were irritating and constantly cried."

 _'Does he_ want _me to cry?'_ I wonder to myself, with a touch hysteria. No, no, I can still see the disgust on his face, the way his striking, crimson eyes had flashed with irritation when I cried the time I realized who exactly he was. Having been raised with children of all ages in the orphanage as he did, it's only natural that he would remember and find my controlled behaviour strange.

This body may only be five months old, but even a five months old baby wouldn't stay still nor quiet for prolonged hours like I have been. _Especially_ not with such a terrifying, man eating snake only a few inches away from them.

(Not that I'm not scared witless, mind you. I'm simply too scared to act out.)

The question still remains, then, whether or not my abnormal behaviour is a positive. I've long since decided to stay on my absolute best behaviour around Voldemort _-freaking Voldemort!-_ as to not draw his ire, and to hopefully be forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind type of thing.

But maybe... _'No, no, I can't. I shouldn't. It wouldn't work -he's a_ _psychopath!'_

Well, I can't actually remember if he's a psychopath or a high-functioning sociopath. I'm by no far an expert in anti-social disorders, from what I _do_ know about them, I would rather he be a high-functioning sociopath than a straight up psychopath. Both disorders differs from neurotypical folks in the way their brains are wired, and both have extremely limited empathy and remorse -if any at all. They can both be charming and wicked smart, calculative and blend in with the neurotypical. Yet despite what they'll show others, no matter how brilliant of an actor they are, in the end of the day the only one that truly matters is themselves. Everyone else are either tools or obstacles in their life.

But psychopaths are born while sociopaths are made, and because of that key difference, it _is_ possible for a sociopath to genuinely bond with another person. It may be a once in a blue moon type of thing, and whether that relationship is healthy or not is a different point altogether, but it _is_ still possible.

 _'If I want to survive in this life, I_ need _Voldemort to value me.'_ The thought puts a sour taste in my mouth, but it's unfortunately true. I can't stay replaceable in his eyes. And to do that...

Whether he's a psychopath or sociopath is up to debate, but if I had to choose I would prefer him to be a sociopath. Either why, though, he has a few narcissist characteristics.

Like having an inflated sense of his own importance, and possessing a deep need for attention and admiration.

If I want to stay safe in this hellhole, even from the top mad dog himself, I need to do some major bootlicking.

(I can only hope that I don't end up getting myself killed in the attempt.)

My mind being made up, I do my best to ignore the anxiety twisting my insides into knots as I slowly, hesitantly begin to climb over Nagini.

_'Please don't eat me, please don't eat me...'_

Miraculously, I manage to bypass the giant snake unscathed, and crawl myself to the in front of his desk while Voldemort watches curiously all the while. I don't dare get closer, forcing myself once again to meet his intimidating gaze.

"Dada!" I babble, offering him a wobbly smile. I inwardly cringe.

He arches a brow at me as he leans back in his seat, and I can already tell that it's going to be an uphill battle.

Ah, frick me.

* * *

**If you'd life to review, but don't know what to say, please answer these questions:**

**1.** What do you think about Hecate being Voldemort's daughter?

 **2.** What do you think about Hecate so far?

 **3.** Do you have a favourite part?

 **4.** Do you have a leasr favourite part?

 **5.** Did you notice any mistakes, and if so, where?

 **6.** Do you have any questions?


	3. Take One -Sweets

"Hello" -Normal speech.

 _'Hello'_ -Thoughts

 **"Hello"** -Parseltongue.

* * *

Following my -dare I call it harebrained- plan to win over the Dark Lord himself, I have managed to gather some of the intelligence to help me during the past three months.

Number one; based on the clothing that he typically wears, I would wager that green is his favourite colour. _Slytherin_ green to be specific.

Number two; he hates it when people are loud (unless they are screaming in misery, the sicko) beat around the bush, or try to start inane conversation. If you have a point you need to _get to it._

Number three; he has a God Complex. (No surprise there, honestly.)

Number four; he doesn't _do_ second chances. And if by some chance he tells you otherwise, _do not believe him._ The bastard is setting you up for failure and is laughing about it behind your back.

Number five; he is a perfectionist, both when it comes to his expectations for others and himself.

Number six; he has a secret sweet tooth. Never to be eaten in front of others (as a baby, I don't count) and he only orders it from his personal House Elf, Kobbly, but he consumes it with shocking frequency all the same.

Keeping all this in mind, I have carefully insisted on the dark green dress when Bella dressed me this morning along with the white stockings and black dress shoes. I also have the piece of wrapped candy that I found in the hallway yesterday, still perfectly edible, clutched in my chubby fist.

(I'm going to Ivan Pavlov his _butt.)_

I also plan on copying his mannerisms moving forward for everyone -but most importantly, for _him-_ to see. They say that mimicry is the highest form of flattery, after all.

"Are you ready, darlin'?" Bella cooes in my face, pinching my cheek painfully.

I grimace, but stay still and let her man handle me. I've learned that it's better to let her get her bursts of affection out of her system for the time being, or else suffer from double the treatment because I'm "just like the Dark Lord!"

Like, lady, what's that supposed to tell you? (Then again, they obviously had intercourse at least _once..._ Oh my God, is Voldemort a _tsundere?_ Also, I resent being compared to _him._ )

 _"Are you ready?"_ she repeats, narrowing her eyes as her voice turns sickeningly sweet.

"Yeth, Mama," I answer with fake cheer. I'm getting better at acting under pressure, I think.

She beams at me, and I feel myself slowly relaxing as she picks me up and settles me on her hip. She likes it when I "use my words," being "advanced" like that. She likes it even more when I address her as "Mama."

Crisis adverted. (For the time being.)

"Good, now let's go see your Father, shall we?"

She walks confidently through the Lestrange Manor, as if she owns the place -which, as Rodolphus Lestrange's wife, I supposes she _does-_ but then she makes the mistake of making eye contact with another Death Eater in the hallway.

"Ah, Bella! How nice it is to see you-"

"Macmillan," she returns coolly. "I don't believe that I've given you permission to use my first name."

His fake, greasy smile falters, but he's quick to force it back up. "Of course, my apologies, Mrs. Lestrange. I only wanted to see if you thought about my wife's offer to watch little Hecate, is all." He shoots me a smile at this, as if I have any control over Bella's desicion-making. "We have two children ourselves, our youngest around your daughter's age. I'm sure she gets lonely without any friends of her own, yes?"

"Hecate is fine. Now if you'd excuse me, the Dark Lord is waiting for us." She doesn't let the man say so much as a farewell as she marches away.

I peer over Bella's shoulder, catching the man's scowl. I resist the urge to flip him the bird before we turn the corner, but just barely. _'Greasy git,'_ I grumble to myself. He isn't the first to approach Bella or Narcissa is hopes of raising his family's status in the long run, nor will he will be the last. Although I may understand where they're coming from, it doesn't stop me from resenting the idea of being stuck with babies and small, whiny children.

People have yet to muster the courage to approach Voldemort about it yet, but I can't completely wipe the possibility of it yet. It all depends on how Voldemort reacts to the first request.

_'I doubt they'd be doing the same if I was anyone else's affair baby, but Voldemort's.'_

I don't even share the last name Lestrange, but Bella's maiden name Black. Of course _she_ considers it a privilege _-"more pure than the House of Lestrange"-_ but in all honestly, I doubt it's because of any other reason than Voldemort not wanting anyone to know he's a Riddle, and because of some Pureblood law that hates illegitimate children.

_'Wait...Does this make me a literal bastard?'_

We pass the hallway that would have led us to the study, and as I notice it my stomach is already beginning to do flips. If we're not going to the study, then there is only one other place to go.

We arrive at one of the entrances of the front lobby, only separated by the grand double doors closed in front of us. Bella knocks on it smartly. "It's Bella, my lord," she announces before it can be asked.

"Come in."

She enters from one of the side doors, marching forward until she stops a few feet away from Voldemort, who is sitting on real, classical throne made out of black and grey marble. I look away as soon as I accidentally make eye contact with the arrogant man. She clutches me close to her chest so that she can bow on one knee.

"You called for me, my lord?"

"I did. I want you to gather five others to..." As he continues to explain the next attack against Dumbledore's people, I squirm in Bella's arms until she relents and puts me down on the ground, still kneeling.

I steel myself, taking a deep breath as I push against the polished tiles in order to stand. _'It's now or never. Don't you_ dare _miss this up.'_ Once I'm standing properly, and I can trust myself not to lose my footing, I slowly wobble my way towards Voldemort.

Bella gasps, and even Voldemort trails off once I'm close.

I can feel my heartbeat quicken, the wrapped candy becoming warm from my sweaty palms. I don't dare raise my gaze higher than his knees, least I lose my resolve.

I'm breathing heavily by the time I reach him -only ten feet from Bella, goddamnit- but my chest swells with pride nonetheless. It's _hard_ learning how to walk again! And even harder still to practice without prying eyes! Resting my free hand on the leg of his throne, it's all that I can do to muster enough energy to remain standing.

 _'You can do this,'_ I tell myself. _'Don't be a chicken.'_ Slowly, my gaze drifts up until I lock eyes with him, who doesn't seem impressed with my display and with a single brow arched.

I can't help but scowl. What was he expecting? For me to do _cartwheels?_ Was _he_ able to walk at five months? No, I think not!

"My lord, that was her first steps!" Bella exclaims, just a little misty.

I instinctively stiffen, half expecting her to lunch forward and crush me against her chest. Thankfully she was able to hold herself back, if for nothing else then the fact that Voldemort hasn't allowed her to stand yet.

Voldemort simply hums, opening his mouth to continue with his orders.

"Dada," I ask with my sweetest voice, gently tugging on his robe before he can speak.

He glances at me wordlessly, if a little irritated.

I swallow. I raise my trembling hand, the one with the candy, and wait for him to offer his own before opening mine. "For Dada," I tell him with a forced smile.

He frowns as he eyes the treat. And then proceeds to ignore me in favour of his business with Bella, still holding my gift.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that this is only the first attempted and I shouldn't expect results so soon. Winning him over and manipulating his feelings with classical conditions takes _time._ Lots and lots of time. I should happy that he accepted the candy at _all._

"...And tell Severus that I would like a word with him. You are dismissed."

"Of course, my lord. As you wish," Bella responds reverently, bowing her head before swiftly standing. She hesitates a second, but when Voldemort makes no move to keep me, she reluctantly steps forward to take me before leaving the room.

 _'I think I can count the first mission as a_ _success,'_ I muse to myself.

Now for the second part.

* * *

Thank you to those that favourited and followed, and a big thank you to Vera, zindiiii, and zovumeAnjaa who reviewed!

**If you'd life to review, but don't know what to say, please answer these questions:**

**1.** What do you think about Hecate's plan to win over Voldemort?

 **2.** Do you have any ideas to help Hecate in her mission?

 **3.** Do you have a favourite part?

 **4.** Do you have a least favourite part?

 **5.** Did you notice any mistakes, and if so, where?

 **6.** Do you have any questions?


End file.
